


Gold on Your Fingertips (Fingertips Against My Cheek)

by ziracrow (duskomybloom)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Songfic, post-bench scene episode 6, when they're back at crowley's flat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 20:42:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19303474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duskomybloom/pseuds/ziracrow
Summary: Post-apocalypse oneshot after they decide to spend the night at Crowley's flat together.Based on "Hostage" by Billie Eilish, mostly because I'm obsessed with the idea of Aziraphale having gold features like the other angels and having them only show when he's happy





	Gold on Your Fingertips (Fingertips Against My Cheek)

**Author's Note:**

> It is strongly recommended that you listen to hostage by billie eilish while reading this. Come find me on [tumblr](https://www.ziracrow.tumblr.com)

The end of the world was no longer nigh, and neither of them were prepared for whatever could happen next.

 Crowley’s flat surrounded them in cold, with stark and colorless walls stretching high above their heads. They sat sipping champagne in the dim haze of city lights outside the lounge window, in an unusually quiet stupor, only commenting every now and then to keep the mood a little lighter. Crowley’s sunglasses lay discarded on the coffee table between them, along with two mostly empty bottles (all the alcohol Crowley had in his flat, surprisingly. He usually drank in the bookshop with Aziraphale). The sun had set some two hours ago, but neither of them had wanted to break the moment to turn on a light.

As their casual conversation was once again swallowed by grim musings of what might be to come, Crowley mulled over the implications of their conversation on the bench earlier, that lead to their sit on the bus, of how he might never be able to consider those implications further after tonight. Aziraphale had almost, almost said no to spending the night, and Crowley had been ready to be rejected one last, final time before the end.

 But he’d followed Crowley onto the bus when it arrived, sat down next to him instead of one behind the other like they always used to. Not hiding anything, anymore, not when Heaven and Hell were going to be after them soon anyway.

 And then, the angel had reached out and grasped Crowley’s hand, fitting their fingers between each other’s and setting them down to rest in his lap. Crowley had watched him perform this simple act in amazement, only able to smile lovingly at the angel like an idiot the rest of the way home. Of course, that was probably the last time he’d feel that, if he ever got to feel anything again after Hell was done with him and Heaven had exacted their wrath upon Aziraphale. Now that he had the angel here, at such long last, in his own flat… he just wanted to keep him to himself, never let Heaven or Hell or any of those bothersome humans at the bookshop touch his angel ever again.

 Abruptly, Crowley drained the rest of his champagne and heaved himself up from his perch on the back of the sofa, making Aziraphale give a little start. The demon stalked over to the window, looking out at the city below, lights winking and flashing and sparkling. He wouldn’t get to see this view again, either.

 He felt Aziraphale’s presence with a slight, ghostly breeze as the angel joined him. They watched the progress of late night traffic for a while, until Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s gaze on him and he knew a question was on his mind.

 “What are you thinking?”

 Crowley didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want to stop looking out at the night, living among the people on earth, doing what they did, with Aziraphale next to him. He just wanted it to be them, forever, until time stopped. Without anyone interfering.

 “I want to be alone.”

 The angel stiffened next to him. “Oh, I… I see. I’ll just—”

 “No!” Crowley almost panicked at the thought of letting the angel walk away again. He grabbed Aziraphale's arm as he made to leave, reptilian eyes boring into celestial. “I mean, I want to be alone with you. Does that make sense?”

 Aziraphale’s expression softened, staring back into Crowley’s face with something that made the demon’s heart leap into his throat. He hadn’t seen Aziraphale up close, really seen him, been able to study all the lines and features on his human face, and he was... well. He was making Crowley's pulse beat faster. he was quite literally radiant, if Crowley were counting the heavenly influences, but he decided not to say so.

 “You are alone with me.” Aziraphale stepped closer until they could feel each other's breath. He searched the demon’s face, making sure Crowley was looking at him.

 Aziraphale didn’t get it. But Crowley had never communicated such things in words, and he struggled with what to say that wouldn’t ruin this, whatever this was, hanging in the air between them. To bring it delicately forward without making it dissipate into nothingness.

“No, I want—” Crowley took a breath as he tried to work it out. “What if we really did go somewhere together? Anywhere. Doesn’t have to be Alpha Centuri," he tried, even though he knew it would never work. There was nowhere they could go. "I want…” he trailed off.

 Aziraphale reached his arms out to clasp around Crowley’s middle, pulling him closer. “Oh, Crowley.”

 It was effortless, perfect, the way the angel hugged him so softly, the way his chin rested on the demon’s shoulder, though they had never embraced like this once in six thousand years.

 “I want to steal your soul.”

 Aziraphale pulled back to examine Crowley’s eyes again at that, but he was still listening. “I’m sorry?”

 “And… hide you. Hide you away in… I dunno. In a chest. A treasure chest," Crowley said, feeling stupid.

 A smile lit up Aziraphale’s features, and he seemed almost to glow faintly in the darkness of the lounge. Crowley counted his lucky stars that Aziraphale was flattered by this and not making an excuse to leave.

 “Really?” He chuckled and pressed his face into Crowley’s neck, inhaling deeply. “Are you calling me a treasure?” he teased.

 A day ago Crowley would have sputtered ridiculously and denied that he could insinuate any such thing. As it was, he had a hard time bringing himself to say anything else after that embarrassing use of the English language.

 Aziraphale turned his head just so, letting his hair tickle at Crowley’s face, and he pressed his lips softly into the demon’s neck. Crowley didn’t know what to do. Dumbfounded, he closed his eyes, letting one of his hands travel up into the angels hair, just feeling it between his fingers.

 He didn’t know what was right anymore, not after today. Not after Heaven and Hell and humanity had all been hanging by a thread, existence threatening to change forever after. But he did know that this, being here with Aziraphale, felt right. It had always been right. _Aziraphale_ had always been right.

 “Stay,” the demon whispered.

 The angel listened. They stood still like that, embracing for such a long time that Crowley wondered if it had only been a few minutes or if they’d be seeing dawn breaking soon. Crowley remembered all the times in the last millennia that they were too different, that they were hereditary enemies, and in one recent instance that stuck out in his mind,  _I don't even like you!_

 “I’m still a demon, angel. Maybe it wouldn’t be so fun for you.”

 “Oh?” Aziraphale hummed, beginning to run small circles into Crowley’s back with his fingers. Crowley sighed into the gentle touches, relishing them while he still could, imprinting this moment in his mind in case he was made to spend an eternity without ever seeing his angel again.

 “Yeah. You… you don’t know what I’d do if you let me crawl inside your veins,” Crowley rambled on. Aziraphale shuddered. “Maybe I’d build a wall and keep you there. Ball and chain, never get out. Nasty business, all locked up.”

 “Certainly,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley could feel him laughing lightly against his neck.

 “What, you don’t believe me?”

 Aziraphale pulled up to smile and put a hand up to caress Crowley’s cheek. Something flashed as he did, a deep, yellowy shimmer catching the light. “In a word, my dear, no.”

 “Hold on.” Crowley reached up to pull the angel’s fingers away, inspecting them. “What’s this?”

 Aziraphale’s fingertips were glimmering, and it wasn’t just a trick of the light. It looked as though he had anointed them in liquid gold and let it drip thinly down the length of his fingers, rivulets leading down toward his palms. Crowley stared, in awe. 

 “Oh…” Aziraphale blushed. “It happens, sometimes. Remnants of my true form, I suppose. They don’t show up very often down here.”

 Crowley’s own fingers traced the droplets with wonder. They were soft and dry and slightly warm to the touch, warmer than the rest of Aziraphale’s skin. His gaze flicked down to the angel’s face again, and caught on his mouth.

 His lips were shining, too, glittering as though someone had pressed them in gold leaf. Crowley had known Aziraphale was an angel, of course, but he’d never viewed him as particularly angelic until this very moment.

 “Your lips, too,” he pointed out reverently.

 “Ah… yes,” Aziraphale’s eyes darted around a little self-consciously.

 Crowley couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to touch just with his fingers anymore. He needed something else, something he’d never had before, something he’d only ever wanted with his angel. “Kiss me,” he breathed, recklessly.

 And, after a hushed moment, Aziraphale did.

They kissed until the thoughts bouncing around in Crowley’s head about the end of their lives were a receding tide, heading out to sea to leave the shores of his mind peaceful and filled only with Aziraphale’s warm, golden sands. They kissed until Crowley didn't think anything was real except the two of them, until they were finally, truly alone together. They kissed until his hand bumped up against something under the angel’s jacket. He glanced down.

“I never knew you had a watch,” Crowley mumbled against Aziraphale’s lips between kisses. Aziraphale laughed.

“Yes, my dear. I don’t show it. It’s very old.” He slipped a hand under his waistcoat, producing a tarnished pocket watch on a golden chain. “Maskelyne gave it to me.”

“The magician?” Crowley held Aziraphale closer as the angel dropped it back into the waistcoat’s inner pocket.

“Yes. I didn’t… well. I didn’t want you to make fun of me.”

 Crowley sighed, apologies falling flat before they got to his mouth. “Hm. Is it real gold?” he opted instead.

 “I don’t believe so.” Aziraphale sighed, burying his face into Crowley’s coat. “Are you sure, Crowley? About this. Love—real love… hurts, you know.”

Crowley felt a pang and set his chin atop the angel’s head. He knew what the angel was talking about, the imminent doom that would cause their parting, hanging over their heads. Why couldn’t they just have this, this beautiful little moment? But they _were_ having it, and Crowley closed his eyes. He could savor this.

 “Nothing hurts when I’m alone,” Crowley said quietly, and then corrected, “When you’re with me, and we’re alone.”

 Aziraphale took a breath as though he were about to answer, and Crowley shushed him gently.

 “Just… let me hold you,” he rasped brokenly. He clung to the angel like he was the only thing left to live for, like he would never let the angel out of his grasp as long as they were both still alive.

“Like a hostage,” Aziraphale supplied after a thought. 

Crowley just closed his eyes, letting the angel warm him to his soul, the night passing by ever so slowly.

 

*

 

Sometime later, when they were sitting on the sofa again, thigh to thigh and fingers entwined, Aziraphale got a profoundly mischievous glint in his eye. “Crowley… What was it you said about crawling inside my veins, again?”

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaand then the rest of ep6 happened if you're thinking about this in the context of the series. Thanks y'all, the good omens fandom is giant and feral and i love you all


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